Hide Me
by KieraVenic
Summary: There are some things that should not be kept hidden and some wounds that take years to heal.


He knew something was wrong the second Hawke rushed up to him; Her golden hazel eyes wide, nervous, and darting. Uncharacteristically she wrung her hands as she jogged up to him.

"Varric, you need to hide me."

Bewildered, he did a double take. "What?"

Repeatedly her eyes darted over him towards the entrance of Skyhold. He half turned to look himself, but saw nothing besides the usual bustle of the lively keep. Marian Hawke took Varric by the shoulders and fairly shook him.

"I'm serious, Varric, you need to hide me. He's going to murder me."

Not the first time Hawke had said that sentence in some variance or another, but this was the first time she actually looked nervous about it. Unusual. He frowned, years of friendship rising up in the urge to protect. The woman before him was hardy and more than capable of taking care of herself, but damned if he did not want to keep her safe if he could and not run the risk.

"Whoa whoa there, Hawke. Who is going to murder you?"

Her cheeks rose in a cringe. "Fenris."

It was impossible not to. Varric tossed his head back with a laugh. Somehow he should not have been surprised. He had received more than one letter from either Hawke or Fenris grouching about the other and their stubbornness. His nervousness bled out.

"Fenris, that's it? Don't do that, Hawke. I thought for a second we were going to be fighting off some crazed Blood Mage Venatori or something. Not that I think they come in the non-Blood Mage variety, to be honest."

"I'm serious," she hissed.

With a snort, Varric grabbed her by the elbow and guided her back towards the upper courtyard. "Relax, Hawke. I get a letter at least once a month from each of you individually bemoaning the other and their stubbornness."

Hazel eyes darted towards him, brow furrowed. "Wait, Fenris writes letters complaining about me?"

"No more than you do about him. It's cute really. You two would save a lot of parchment if you stopped fussing to me about each other's frustrating habits. Apparently you have a tendency to hog the blankets."

"… He fusses to you about the fact that I hog the blankets? And it's cold." Her dark stained lips formed a pout.

He did not miss her constant glances back towards the gate or the way she kept picking up her pace, only to drop back when he would not rise to meet her speed.

"He does, but no more than you bemoan his habit of putting his feet on the table."

"Hey! That's unhygienic, damn it. He doesn't wear shoes unless it snows or rains."

"He has an image to keep up. Can't let people think that he's gone soft."

Hawke snorted. Lowly, she muttered, "I'll let you tell him that the next time we hunt Tevinter slavers together. Soft is hardly the word for him."

"Perhaps, but I think it's something to consider when he's around you," and he brought the conversation full circle.

Hawke winced. "You might be changing your tune soon. Crap," she wailed. "Unless he's forgotten how to read a calendar, again, he will be here any moment. I'm dead."

A candle flared in Varric's mind. "Is this about the Fade thing? The Inquisitor mentioned you offered to stay behind…" Disapproval darkened his face. When he had found out from Lavellan what had happened, why she and Hawke had been so slow to escape the Fade, why Stroud was missing, he had been furious.

Hawke had folded her arms and scowled back just as furiously, citing that it was a necessary risk, that it was her duty, but Varric had accepted none of that.

"Bullshit!" he had shouted. Hawke had blinked in surprise. It was nearly unheard of for Varric to raise his voice to her, let alone swear at her in any seriousness. "None of this is your damn fault!"

Her face had darkened with fetid memories. "This war, Corypheus, the red lyrium…"

"Is not your fault," he had growled. While she had given up the argument, he could tell by her distant expression that she had not listened. His hands had clenched in his frustration. Yet another reason he had not wanted to bring Hawke into this new mess. Her guilty conscience could sink a fleet with its weight.

Before him now, Hawke fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot when they came to a stop. "That's part of it, but I didn't tell him that, and I swear to the Maker, Varric… If you tell Fenris about that I'll choke you."

His temper eased, but only a little, arms crossed he fixed her with a look, jaw set. "You should not hide stuff like that from him."

"Not that I'd live long enough to choke you if you _did_ tell him," she muttered. "Varric, it's hardly been a year since we fled Kirkwall… Fenris' mind has not exactly changed in its opinion of Mages, Spirits, Demons, and the Fade. He was flat out against it the last time we went to the Fade years ago, I hardly doubt he'd be any more receptive to the idea now, knowing that I went again, and this time physically. Which… I didn't think was even possible."

Now that was something they could agree on. As a Dwarf he had never even visited the Fade in his dreams. Dwarves were not made for that and it should not have been possible. A shudder fought to quake him when he recalled the foreboding scenery of the Realm of Spirits. At least Solas had been happy. His lip twitched when he recalled the giddiness in the Mage's voice. It had done something to calm Varric to know at least one person in the group was excited.

"Maybe not, but you're not going to slowly wear him away by not telling him. Was it not the fact that you were unabashedly a Mage of morals that worked him over to the idea that perhaps not all Mages were monsters?"

She snorted softly. "Depends on the morning…"

"I recall a certain argument between him and… and Blondie."

Hawke's face crumpled as he knew it would. That was a wound that was still sore, still festering, and one he did not think would heal any time soon, if ever. He hurried ahead, "I recall a certain broody Elf proclaiming that only weak Mages were the issue and that you were not weak."

"Then your fabulous memory may also recall the line, 'A Mage and a hypocrite. What company you keep'."

Her discouragement was brushed away. "Maybe, but he was grumpy at the time. Blondie was kinda challenging him for your hand. You can't expect wonders. You're wearing at him. You got him to stand at your side during the final fight in the Circle. I think that says more than his words would. That and that was one hell of a kiss you two had," he added with a grin, undaunted by her glower with his last words.

"Please tell me you did not include that in your book…"

The smug look on his face did nothing to encourage. Ready to sass him, her mouth popped open, only to click shut as a harried guard hurried up to them.

"Ser Tethras, there—"

"Whoa there, Ser? Just Varric's fine."

"Uh… Ser Varric—" the guard paused when the Dwarf sighed. Varric hurriedly motioned him on. "There appears to be what is a very angry Dalish Elf at the end of the main bridge."

"Alright?" Varric drawled, puzzled. "Dalish Elves would be the territory of the Inquisitor, I'm afraid. I don't know much about forest frolicking."

The way the guard fidgeted and shifted nervously made Varric pity the fellow. Dalish were not friendly on the best of days. He did not want to be the sorry sod on the end of a 'very angry' one's ire. "They didn't happen to mention why they were mad, did they? A clan name or something?"

Rapidly, the guard, who Varric realized was more of a lad than a man, shook his head. "N-no. Uh, he did not say much other than to demand entrance. Should… Do—Are Dalish supposed to glow?"

Oh. Oh boy. Varric barked a laugh, which only made the poor kid jump. 'Dalish' indeed. He certainly hoped none of the guard had made the mistake of calling this particularly angry Elf a Dalish. It might be the last thing they did. Cullen would be less than pleased to find the gate guard smeared over the bridge. _Or with holes in their chests_ , he thought.

"Well, anyway, he did not state his purpose for wanting entrance. He just demanded that I ask for you, Varric Tethras, or for the Champ—" There was a pause as he glanced over Varric's face, expression twisting in confusion. "—pion…" he trailed off.

"Alright, Hawke, what did you do—Hey!" It was no wonder the kid had looked lost. By the time Varric had turned around Hawke was half way up the rampart steps and booking it. Varric cursed his shorter legs as he hurried after her.

Behind him, the guard cried after, "What do I tell him!? He's glowing!" More than one person turned to stare, bewildered, at the lad.

"Just let him in!"

At the top of the steps Hawke hovered uncertainly, her head swinging left then right. To the right, Cullen disappeared into his office. Hawke's eyes locked on his door. She all but sprinted for the former Templar's office.

By the time Varric skidded to a stop in the room, Cullen was staring bewildered up at his loft where Hawke's feet had just disappeared. Slowly, he turned to stare quizzically at Varric, one blond brow inching up.

"Should I ask?"

Upstairs Hawke shouted, "Cullen! I need your bed!"

If only Varric could capture the look on Cullen's face. The Templar had looked less horrified when staring at Meredith's crystalized corpse. "I… I—what? No, wait, I don't want to know. Wait… Don't you two have your own beds?"

On the second thought… perhaps he wished this moment just did not happen. "Maker, Cullen! No!" Varric barked, face scrunched with revulsion.

Through the floor boards Varric heard the heavy thump of Hawkes weight before the sound of dragging. "… Hawke… Did you just hide under Cullen's bed…?"

A pause then, muffled, "Maybe… Don't you dare tell Fenris where I am! That ass! He timed for his letter to arrive as he got here. He knew I'd run."

Amusement and confusion fell to dread. Cullen swung his attention from the ceiling over his desk to Varric once more. "Fenris? … Should I be concerned for my safety with her under my bed? How do I always get dragged into your disasters?"

"Hey, I did not start this one," the Dwarf muttered. Outside Varric heard the baritone bark of his name and he flinched. "Well, he's in… Maker… Pray for the continued intact state of my chest."

Out on the ramparts, he could see Fenris below, notably being avoided by Skyhold's inhabitants. He hurried as far as he could from Cullen's office before he drew the furious Elf's attention.

He was half way down the steps before eyes narrowed upon him. "Fenris! Long ti—"

"Where is she?"

Not much had changed it seemed. "Hello to you too, sunshine. Friendly as always. I see Hawke's been working with you on your people skills."

Fierce green eyes bored into him. He had been on the end of worse. Fenris had nothing on a furious Bianca. Arms crossed he bore the glower without comment. Eventually, Fenris growled again, "Where is she?"

"You're going to have to be more specific. We have quite a few women here."

"Hawke," the Elf bit out.

Dark brows crept up. There was a tumultuous tremble in his voice. Interesting… He had not seen Fenris this enraged since their confrontation with Danarius and his sister in the Hanged Man. An unhealthy curiosity was growing in his gut; the kind that tended to wind up leaving you dead. Damned if he could not help himself when his friends were concerned.

"Alright, I'll bite. What did she do to work you up this bad?"

"Nothing," Fenris spat. His eyes were over Varric's head, scanning the milling courtyard. Nearly every eye was on Fenris. It was not every day they had a glowing Elf. Only Lavellan had a penchant for glowing and that was just her hand.

Tension hummed through Fenris, showing in the faintest tremors in his arms, hand clenched. "Right," Varric drawled, watching his friend's body language. "And I'm the Empress of Orlais."

All the attention however was only making things worse. Visibly, Varric could see Fenris becoming more tightly wound with each second. Curious whispers reach their ears. A piercing glare snapped Varric's way before Fenris moved to shove past him. Varric half reached to stop him, but Fenris had already jerked out of reach before they could touch. With a sigh, Varric followed the stalking Elf. Whatever Hawke had done to set him off this badly, she had certainly stepped in it. Perhaps she was not so off with her fear of a gruesome death.

When Fenris went straight for the stairs up to the ramparts, Varric's stomach sank. _He knows she's up here. How? Damn, I drew his attention too early._

But to his great relief, Fenris went the wrong way. At the top he stormed to the left, jerking open the door to the rotunda. In an instant, his joy died miserably.

 _Oh Maker. Dorian._

Wary silver blue eyes watched as Fenris paused in the doorway. Solas and Fenris eyed each other. A curious gaze traced Fenris' glowing markings and Varric inwardly cringed. He could only have faith in Solas' intuition to warn him off from asking about the marks.

"Damn it, Fenris. You can't just go barging into rooms like that. What if Solas were undressing?"

A huffed laugh escaped the Mage and wisely, he went back to reading one of his tomes. "Because I so frequently change in the view of the entire library."

"Sure Lavellan wouldn't mind." Ah yes, there it was. He could see the flush that crept under Solas' collar. A sharp look was cast his way, but Varric only grinned.

Fenris, released from their deadlock stare, moved forward again, hovered between the stairs and the door to the main hall.

 _Not the stairs. Not the stairs. Not the stairs._

The stairs. Varric swore. The words were misconstrued, taken as a sign he was closing in on his prey. Fenris' pace increased, his markings casting a dazzling pattern on the stairwell walls. There were days Varric cursed his short stature as he had to jog up the stairs after Fenris. No, better yet, damn those lanky Elves.

Impending Tevinter death in five… four… three…

Curious dark eyes darted up from an ancient text. Varric could _see_ the intrigue gleam in Dorian's eyes. His mouth opened as Fenris came into sight.

"NO!"

Fenris jerked to a stop and Dorian blinked bewildered at the Dwarf. Brows furrowed, he moved to speak again and Varric bodily shoved Fenris forward. "No. No no. Later. We'll talk later."

"Varric, what the hell are—"

"But I—"

"NOPE."

Fenris glanced over his shoulder, voice snarling, "What are you doing?" For a brief moment, his eyes alighted on Dorian.

The darkened skin; the style of his clothes; the embroidered snake entwined with the dragon; the mage staff. Fenris' eyes somehow managed to both narrow and widen simultaneously in a way that screamed bloodshed.

Dorian smiled cheekily and waved.

Varric would kill him. Later. Harder, he forced Fenris from the room before the Elf could make good on his silent threat. "Right, let's just find your Lady."

"I don't own her," Fenris growled.

"Oh for Andraste's—That's not what I meant. Look, maybe if you just tell me why you're so mad I'll tell you where she is. … Oh shit."

He was staring at death. So this is what it was like. It was oddly amusing and yet terrifying at the same time. Seemed fitting. He thought he had always be the type to laugh in the face of death; to go down with a grin. Though, perhaps laughing at Fenris was not the wisest of choices.

Funny how when one got past a certain point of rage their voice got quieter instead of louder. Or perhaps that was just due to the sheer overwhelming urge to kill.

"Where. Is. She? You know. Tell me. Now."

No point in hiding it any longer. Fortunately, Vivienne was absent from her usual spot as they emerged from the library. Another Mage would have only made this more of a "delight". Arms folded, feet apart, Varric stared Fenris down.

"Not until you tell me what is going on."

"No."

"Guess we're at an impasse then, huh?"

So close now that Varric could feel the heat coming off his body, Fenris glowered down at him. "Where is Marian?"

Marian. That was telling. Varric felt his expression grow troubled. As close as they were, Fenris still referred to Hawke as, well, Hawke in public and even in private, so far as he knew. The few times Fenris had ever called Hawke by her first name had been in moments of great fear, or love.

A heavy sigh escaped his nose. "Oh boy, Song Bird, what did you step into now…" The use of his affectionate nickname for Hawke softened Fenris' expression, if only for a moment. But Varric would not answer and neither would Fenris. He would not wait either. When it was apparent that the Dwarf would not be moved, Fenris swayed past him towards the stairs down to the garden.

Well, if the Elf was not going to speak, Varric certainly would not be the first of them to break. Content that for now that Fenris was going the wrong way, he casually strolled after the Elf. At the least, staring at the brooding Elf's back provided him time for thought.

Clearly, Hawke's nervousness was not unfounded. Would Fenris murder her? He highly doubted that, but there would definitely be screaming involved and perhaps a thrown punch or two. Maker, he hoped not. Getting between the two of them in a fight was a death warrant, never mind the fact that he did not want to see two of his closest friends in such a state.

At first, he figured he had not been so off in his assumption that Fenris was furious about the Fade, but then, how would Fenris know that? He certainly had not told Fenris and if Hawke demanded that he not mention it than obviously she had not either.

Two hours he followed Fenris around Skyhold and he was still at a loss.

Was it that she had left without him to Skyhold? No. That could not be it. Fenris may not have liked to be left behind, but Hawke was fully capable of protecting herself and indeed, had come to Fenris' own aid more than once. There was no way that Hawke traveling alone would have caused this amount of anger. There either was more than one problem, or there was something that had caused Fenris to grow far more concerned in the past four years. Their letters, and occasional meeting, had not indicated anything of that sort, though.

Sure, the world was more dangerous, the Templar and Mage war only growing, but Hawke had been avoiding Templars since she was a child. She had fooled a whole city for nearly four years before Meredith finally caught her during the Qunari invasion. Though, with as many shenanigans as they had gotten into he figured half of that was due to dumb luck.

With a groan he tussled his hair. In the end he was no closer.

He struggled out of his thoughts when he realized they were back on the ramparts. Cullen's office was in front of them.

 _Aw shit. Well… Maybe he won't think to look up._

A beeline right to Cullen's office. The former Templar looked both alarmed and harassed when Fenris practically kicked the door in. "Is there a reason why people keep barging into my office today for reasons besides Inquisition business?"

Behind Fenris, Varric was frantically miming for Cullen to be quiet. The corresponding odd look he was given made Fenris turn to stare suspiciously at him. The damn Elf knew. He knew he was getting warm in his hunt. Really, there were only so many places left for Hawke to hide.

In a manner disturbingly similar to his namesake, Fenris stalked slowly around Cullen's office. The Military Advisor watched warily, ready to step in should things get violent. He may have dealt with this group in the past, but he did not know them beyond their skills and more outspoken beliefs.

At last, Fenris came to a stop by the ladder and Varric knew the game was up. The Elf had even looked under Cullen's desk as he passed around. There was no way he would skip looking beneath the bed.

When Fenris began his ascent, Varric did not hesitate to follow. He was not quite sure what Fenris would do when he finally found Hawke. This whole situation was unusual.

He heard Cullen pace to the base of the ladder, no doubt watching worriedly.

Varric heard Hawke's yelp before he saw them. Fenris had half dragged her out from under the bed by her ankle by the time his head cleared the floor. There were halfhearted protests from Hawke as she struggled in his grip, but Fenris was not letting go any time soon. She winced when he grabbed her arm, jerking her up.

The look she shot Varric as she kneeled across from Fenris was dirty. He met her gaze challengingly, arms crossed. _Oh no you don't. This isn't my doing_.

She relented, head dipping. The brittle silence shattered.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Fenris snapped. "Or did you even think at all?"

"Hey," Hawke defended, head rising to frown back. "I was—"

"Not planning to tell me? Did you plan to explain besides, 'Be back in a few weeks'?"

"If I had told you, you wouldn't have let me go," she huffed.

"Of course I wouldn't have!" he shouted. "This entire continent is in the middle of half a dozen different wars!"

To the side, Varric frowned, eyes swinging between the two. He was sure now. Something had certainly happened in the last few months that he had missed from their correspondences. Fenris may have been defensive of his companions, but this was unusually protective for the Elf that was usually so stoic where his friends were concerned.

Hawke's expression grew thunderous. "Fenris, I'm hardly defenseless. This isn't the first war I've been in. I can take care of myself in a fight."

"It's the fact that you were fighting at all that's the issue! Venatori, slavers, Templars, abominations, maleficar, darkspawn, dragons, demons! And you just tear across half the continent when the Seekers are still looking for you!?" A glowing fist slammed hard into a floor boards, cracking it. Both Varric and Hawke jumped.

Visibly distressed, Hawke appeared to struggle to calm her voice. "Fenris! Calm down! Nothing happened. I got here safely without incident. I've spent my whole life running and hiding. Apostate, remember? I'm rather adept at it by now."

The words did nothing to soothe. The more they talked the greater Fenris' rage. "So that gives you the right to just risk it all alone!? Those years you were not exactly on your own!"

Okay, this was too strange for him. "Fenris, Hawke's not exactly a damsel in distress. This is the woman that you personally suggested the Arishok duel for Kirkwall. What the hell is wrong with you?"

He should have expected that Fenris would turn on him. Teeth bared, Fenris hissed, "And you, what the hell were you doing, summoning her here? Letting her run off in her state?"

Varric curled his lip, irritated. "Hey, I'm not her keeper and neither are you. She's a big girl that can make her own choices. She had knowledge that only she could provide." Wait… 'In her state'? His lips pursed. An odd choice of words.

"Enough, Fenris!" Hawke snapped. "Leave Varric out of this. I made the choice to leave on my own. He didn't demand that I come, but I felt it was necessary that I be here fo—"

" _Necessary!?_ _What were you thinking? YOU'RE PREGNANT!_ " Fenris roared.

Silence rang between them.

In the wake of such an outburst, even Fenris appeared startled. It lasted only a moment before his expression darkened once more. Hawke's eyes squeezed shut to avoid meeting his gaze, her head bowing.

Varric had always heard the term 'seeing red'. It was a cliché that he could shamefully admit to having used a few times in his writing. Never did he think it might actually be a thing. His blood pressure was high enough that he could see the beat of his heart in the pulse of his vision. Oh he would kill her. Never mind that that may have been contradictory to the reason why he was mad to begin with.

He could sympathize with Fenris who fairly panted with rage, chest heaving in his fury.

"You're pregnant!?" Varric shouted incredulously.

He could not deny that guilt was one source of his anger. Already he had faced the fear, guilt, and relief of nearly losing Hawke at Adamant, but knowing that she carried a child as well… He did not like the feeling of responsibility that knowledge came with. More than ever he was reassured in his decision to have kept her hidden from Cassandra and Leliana.

Hawke said nothing, her head bowed. What fight there had been in her had left. It was Fenris who turned towards him.

"Three months now."

Her armor hid it well, but now that he knew, Varric could see signs of her larger than normal abdomen.

It was too much. He wanted to shake the fool woman. Low, he growled, "You were going to sacrifice yourself—"

Hawke's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"—by staying in the Fade when you are pre—"

"Varric!" she shouted, hands waving frantically, trying to stop him.

Too late.

He had heard Fenris angry before, but his voice had never quite reached this level. It was not so much a scream than it was a roar.

" _WHAT!?_ "

Despite his early anger with her, Varric found himself shifting, moving to edge towards Hawke as though to get between her and Fenris. With this new level of anger, he was not entirely sure what to expect.

Behind him, Hawke cringed, sinking in on herself.

Low, dangerous, Fenris snarled, "You were going to kill yourself?"

Varric could almost hear Hawke's wince. "Technically, no. Someone needed to stay behind to keep the Terror Demon distracted…"

It was alarming how fast Fenris' face went flat. Perhaps more so in that his eyes were wide with a wild light. His voice was a storm. "Leave Varric."

"Now hold on a minute, Fenris—"

Fenris whirled on Varric. Twisting around from his kneel into a crouch, the Elf bared his teeth, feral as he shouted, "GET OUT!"

The step back was automatic. His legs locked immediately after, unwilling to budge again. He looked to Hawke. Her smile was weak. "It's okay," she said with a nod. "Go on."

With great reluctance, he did so. Fenris did not watch him as he moved towards the ladder. Cullen was at the bottom, watching on anxiously. Varric's lips twitched at the sight of it. Despite their rocky history in the past, the former Knight Captain was concerned. Touching, really.

Questioningly, he looked to Varric. The Dwarf nodded. "It's alright. Give them a moment, huh?"

 _Poor bastard. Probably thinks we're going to blow up his office again._

He was sure Cullen nearly ran out of his office after him.

He was shaking. He would rather be shaking the fool woman in front of him, but tightly, he reined in his temper. She was here now, apparently safe, and it would do him no good to undo that by letting his anger get out of hand.

Her head had tipped down again, hazel eyes watching him through the fall of her hair. Beneath the anger, Fenris recognized the self-recrimination that swelled with the wary fear that she watched him with.

 _You frighten her._

A darker, more bitter part of himself, hissed back, _It was only a matter of time. She had to see the monster you are at some point_.

The tangle of emotions was overwhelming. It hurt to think that she might want out, want to leave him. So many years of trying to overcome everything that had been done to him, for naught. The pain of thinking of living a life without her… there were days that seeing her was his only reason for bothering to rise in the morning. It was her face that would bring him back from the brink of mindless rage that threatened to push him beyond a point of no return in his violence.

Too worked up, he could not even manage to shout at her. His voice shook, a mirror of his body, as he spoke. "Why? Why would you offer to sacrifice yourself? Your— _our_ child? Do you truly desire to die? How could you be this foolish?"

Normally such a barb would have riled her, jabbed at her defenses until she rose to meet his temper with her own. Fenris was again surprised as instead of her usual response, Hawke hunched further on herself, her hands rising to cover her face. Then she began to shake. Her voice slipped, warbling, between her fingers.

"I don't—I just… All of this is my fault. So many dead, thousands, because I didn't report him."

There was no need to guess who _him_ was. Fenris bared his teeth, unseen. He knew he should have killed that abomination years ago, but Hawke's affection for the other Mage had foolishly stayed his hand.

"I befriended him, I thought I could talk him down, help him be free of Justice, Vengeance, but I was wrong. I was a fool. Worse!" her voice rose with a cry. "I helped him gather the materials! I stupidly believed that it was a potion to undo the bond, but it was an explosive. I trusted him instead of researching the ingredients. And the Grand Cleric… She was so kind… She gave sanctuary to some of the Mages, letting them spend nights in the Chantry when the Circle was too much, denying the Templars the right to drag them back. I betrayed her when she never reported me for being an apostate!"

A shaking had arisen in her shoulders. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach, but he held himself in check. Not yet. Too soon and she might shut down or be pushed too far to speak.

"I even distracted her for him! I saw the crushed houses afterwards; the bodies half beneath the debris…" She sucked in a whistling breath.

"And Orsino… I supported him! I stood at his side when he was behind the research that disfigured my mother! That murdered her! Time and time again I defended maleficarum! I sent them right back into the city they preyed on."

Maleficarum came out with a choked back sob. She did not see as the rage at least melted from Fenris' face into frustrated sorrow. Higher, her voice rose, sharp, on the verge of breaking.

"I was supposed to stop Corypheus! Not let him free! And now he's blown up the Conclave, corrupted the Templar Order, enthralled the Wardens with fear, and seeks to tear apart the veil if it means gaining Godhood! I was the one that funded the expedition that brought back the red lyrium that drove Meredith crazy, that's run the Templar Order into the ground!" Her shaking intensified, breaths heaving and watery.

"I let Isabela get away with the book that started the invasion, that killed the Viscount and allowed Meredith to instate martial law. The Chantry nearly ordered an Exalted March to catch me and every Mage or 'sympathizer' in the way would have been slaughtered! Even the children! I should've gone first. I should never have let Bethany take the lead from Lothering. I was too slow to find mother! I knew what the lilies meant! I should've told her! Gone to the foundry sooner!"

Viciously, her fingers curled, her nails raking against her skin until it reddened and tore, blood blooming.

In an instant, Fenris moved to her. Fingers curled around her trembling wrists, he pulled her hands away. "No, Hawke, no. Stop it," he urged as she struggled to break free. "Stop. Marian, it's alright."

Hard, she jerked her arms, nearly breaking free. "Nothing is alright! The demon was right! Thousands are dead! Because of _me!_ " Her voice tore. Tears came freely now and it burned him to see her reduced to this. He had relied on her strength for so many years since their fateful meeting in Kirkwall.

"You were right," she sobbed. Still she struggled to get free from him. On her knees she pulled and twisted, but he did not release her. "Magic is evil! I'm evil! It taints my blood. And now it will taint our child! They will be hunted… Drawn to the same evil and you'll hate us, leave us."

The last words fell into a whimper. Her struggles had weakened as terror and grief took their toll, exhausting her.

The concept that in all likelihood their child would be a Mage was something that he had been struggling with for the last three months. When she had first told him about her missed moon cycle, explained her family's history, voice filled with trepidation, he had stared at her with mute horror. He had seen her cringe, saw the pain and guilt in her eyes, and loathed himself for it. He tried to contain it, for her at least, but the others of her talents… they made it so hard.

Still, he had not realized her fear had run so deep. Then again, he had not exactly made a point of letting her know that he would not run at the first sign of magic.

He was not comfortable with this, not in any way, but would he truly run? He had thought long and hard on it; spent long nights staring sightlessly at their ceiling in thought. Whether or not the child was a Mage was not something they had a choice in; not something Hawke had a choice in. Hawke could not create a child on her own, he had had an equal hand in its creation. Nor was it likely planned, considering the misery on her face when she had told him. No, she was not the type to go and do something like that behind his back.

Could he even think of leaving, of punishing her for this, when he was just as much at fault? His time with Hawke had forced him to start looking past just the concept of "Mage", deeper into people. It was not something he was comfortable with, and often avoided. He recalled Hawke's frantic fear for the children at the Circle when Meredith finally declared the Rite of Annulment.

" _We need to get them out."_

" _They're mages…"_

" _They're_ children _, Fenris! There may be_ babies _in there. You would stand there and let the Templars slaughter a six year old because he sometimes has sparks at his fingertips? An eight year old girl, snatched from her parents, because she once panicked and froze a bucket of water?"_

It was harder to condone the slaughter when those large eyes stared up with fear from those tiny faces, half hidden behind the robes of the older Mages who stood ready, waiting for the Templars.

Would he leave his own son or daughter alone in the wilds while Templars, now infected with red lyrium, hunted them? Leave them to fall prey to the influence of Maleficar and Abominations? His grip on Hawke tightened. No. He would not let them touch the child; his child.

He felt Hawke start when he released her to wrap his arms around her instead. There was only mild protest as he eased himself down beside her and tugged her into his lap.

"Fenris, stop it."

"No."

A rumble of frustration, a press of a hand to his sternum, but she made no real effort to get up. Arm banded around her waist, he pressed her to him, tucking her against his neck, shoulder. A kiss to her hair, then her temple, down her face and along her jaw. Her head twisted away, but he lightly grabbed her chin, turning her back so their eyes could lock.

"I am not leaving. I chased you here, did I not? Mage born child or no, you are not at fault for the poor choices of other people. If you were guilty of some crime, then I would be just as at fault."

Brows furrowed, she tried and failed to shake her head in his grip. "You were only following me. I was the one that led you down the wrong path."

Derisively, he snorted. "Do not think so little of my free will. Those choices were made of my own volition. The moment Meredith and Orsino drew you into their spat, I knew full well that you would side with the Mages, if push came to shove."

When she tried to look away, he tipped his head to keep her gaze. "I walked _proudly_ with you to meet the Knight Commander and First Enchanter, already knowing your choice."

Hesitation and doubt still lingered in Hawke's eyes, but he had begun to break its hold.

"Regardless, you are of no fault. When we went to the Deep Roads, none of us knew about the idol and its power. You were not Bartrand's sole benefactor in that trip and it was Varric who worked to help you get the funds."

"But—"

His voice rose over hers. "That abomination," Fenris sneered, "hid his plan from you. He _lied_ to you, Hawke. He had told you that you were helping to undo his possession. How were you to know his true intent?"

The grip of his fingers slipped as she began to shake her head. "I should've researched. I knew something was off wh—"

But Fenris kept going. While loud, his tone held a gentleness that only Hawke was ever allowed to witness. It was something she treasured and hoarded for herself greedily. Now she wanted to shake him for it; wanted him to see it was wrong now.

"It was Orsino that betrayed you, and Kirkwall, not the other way around. You did what you had to in order to try and save the Circle children that were going to be caught in the slaughter. Orsino was the one to doom them with his foolishness and foul practices. Even if you had sided with Meredith, the fool woman was insane. It was her own idiocy that led her to purchase the idol and to make it into a sword.

"In the end you still would have had to fight her and Orsino still would have turned to blood magic, regardless of your side."

Still, she tried to refute him, tense in his hold. "You don't understand, Fenris. Nearly every day they were speaking with me, looking to me for help, for guidance. And I fail—"

"And Isabela fooled us all. For years she tricked us regarding that relic of hers." A sound of frustration rose over his voice as once more Fenris spoke over her, raising his own tone to overcome hers. "Her betrayal was of her own making and not your fault. Did her letter not say as much? She left you to fight her own battles. That was not your doing, but hers.

"Bethany's death was an unfortunate accident and do not dare listen to your brother. Carver," the name was spat, "had no enemy before him to fight, to rail against for her loss so he picked on you instead. Her death was no more your fault than your mother's. Leandra was the victim of a sick man. What he did had nothing to do with you."

"But I should have warned her," Hawke shouted. "Instead of trying to protect her from such a horrific story I should have told her so she would know!"

Her continued stubbornness was a source of frustration. His forehead pressed tightly to hers. "And in the end what good would it have done, Marian!? That man picked your mother specifically. Even if you had warned her he would have found a way. The notes we found? He had stalked some of those women for months."

No shake of her head or protests; a good sign. Her eyes twitched back and forth, searching his face. Then, they pressed shut and she turned away. He could feel the dampness of her tears as she pressed her face to his neck. Tighter, he held her as one hand stroked along her back, back and forth in gestures of comfort.

Voice whisper soft, her words brushed across his throat. "How? How can you be so sure that this isn't my doing? That I did not spark these events?"

For a moment more, he held her as she was, reveling in the tickle of her breath.

Alive. After a week of frantically traveling from their reclusive home to Skyhold he had found her alive. And it had been close, or so Varric made it sound.

 _You nearly lost her. Never. Never again._

It was frightening to realize sometimes just how much he depended on her to keep his sanity some days.

Finally, he pulled back to look at her, face fierce with conviction. "The sin of those seven damnable Magisters occurred long before your birth; the same for his imprisonment. Both Meredith and Orsino had committed their sins before they had ever come to you for aid. Regardless of whether or not you had provided the money, Bartrand would have found a way to make his expedition possible. He was a merchant prince… They have their ways to make money appear when needed.

"Bethany made the choice to go first. Anders would have destroyed the Chantry with or without your help. The Qun was taken before you ever met that woman. Leandra was her own woman that made her own choices. She decided to walk that day; to see your uncle. And that monster made his own decision to prey upon her."

Sorrowfully she stared back. He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You may be everything to me, but you are not everything to the world," he teased weakly. A bob of her head hinted at a silent, amused scoff. "The only influence you had were the lives you saved trying to stop these things from happening."

Her voice was bitter when she muttered back, "Tell that to the Chantry… Grand Cleric Elthina. Everyone in that buil—"

The words were not given a chance to finish. Her voice caught with protest as Fenris grabbed her chin. It was impossible for her to speak without biting herself, so instead, Hawke settled for glaring at him. He glared back, undaunted.

A kiss darted over her lips and she blinked, bewildered. "Enough," he uttered. She twisted out of his grip to refute, but growled with frustration as she was grabbed again, words smothered under another kiss.

Every attempt to pull away, to express her upset or sass him, he pulled her in again. There was not much she could do but press against his chest as kisses were pressed to her nose, lips, jaw, and down her neck. Between each, a solitary word would slip free.

"You. Are. Not. At. Fault. They. Are. Responsible. Adults. Who. Made. Their. Own. Choices." He stopped, drawing back as his face crinkled, troubled, "… Or irresponsible really…"

Then, at last, his final words drew a laugh. Hands smacked one last time against his chest, but this time the blow was soft, playful.

A hand tugged the tail of her hair. "Are you going to stop blaming yourself for the sky being blue now?"

Hawke rolled her eyes and jabbed him in the chest. "Watch it. Keep this up and I'll have to let Varric know that you're secretly a softie."

"Don't you dare tell the Dwarf," Fenris growled, expression glowering.

Not the least bit threatened, Hawke tucked herself back against him. Her nose nuzzled the pulse that thrummed against her skin. Her voice was whisper soft. "Then you will say?"

His hand slid down her side to rest over her lower abdomen. "For all my life, I am yours."

It was not until much later in the evening that Varric found the pair again. Fortunately, the Inquisitor had been wise enough to grab Dorian for her most recent mission. The less he was around Skyhold until Fenris left the better.

Thankfully both appeared alive and in one piece. He lingered in the doorway with a grin. Broody had officially outted himself as a closet softie. Currently he was sitting on one of the couches in the library, Hawke lounging across his lap as the pair of them was nose deep in books.

Oh this was just too good. "Fenris… are you reading a book about Mages?"

The Elf scowled, subconsciously shifting the book partly behind Hawke as if it hiding it now would somehow make Varric forget what he had seen. The grin the Dwarf leveled on him riled the Elf to defense.

"The number of people in my home capable of setting it on fire is going up by one. This requires preparation."

Gold hazel eyes rolled, but not without amusement. Hawke shook her head.

"If that's the case, Broody, I think you would be better served reading up on how to put out fires of magical origin," Varric suggested.

With a huff, Hawke set down her own book. "Oh for pete's sake. You just throw water on it. Besides, I'll be able to snuff out the fires myself. It's fine."

"So you don't deny the kid will be burning the house down," Varric teased.

"… Maybe. I set a few things on fire when I was first coming into my magic. It's kind of spontaneous."

"I hate magic," Fenris grumbled.

Cheeky, Hawke flashed him a smile. "Wait until I start getting overly emotional in the final months and start throwing rocks at you for absolutely no reason and hysterically crying about carpet stains."

The alarm on Fenris' face was pure beauty. "No."

Yes, like that would do anything. Obviously enjoying herself, Hawke went on. "Or when I freeze all of the walls in the summer months because it's too hot."

"Absolutely not."

"Raining for days because I can't stop crying about how the curtains are the wrong color."

"I said no."

"Uch, or just having to burn—"

A hand clapped over her mouth before she could finish. "For the last time, no," Fenris grouched.

A tongue darted out to lick his palm and he jerked his hand back with an expression of revulsion. Hawke could only laugh. "Oh relax. I promise not to get angry and set you on fire… too much."

Desperate green eyes turned on Varric. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"I told you, Broody, should've picked the bachelor's life." Sorry sod was in deep. There was no hope for him now.

"Yes, because I am sure Bianca is named after a figment of your imagination."

"I deny everything." That was a painful reminder, but one he could not be mad about. It was not as though Fenris had any idea. Perhaps, in the end, Varric did know a little of Fenris' plight.

 _Oh the beautiful shackles we bind ourselves with. Damned fools, the lot of us men._

He was spared having to dwell on the melancholy thoughts but the hesitant steps of a certain Seeker. A grin split Varric's face. He had been waiting for this. Ever since Hawke had arrived, Cassandra had been anxiously hovering.

"Evening, Seeker Cassandra."

The happy chirp fairly made the normally stern and often dour woman jump. Varric swore he could almost see her blushing from across the room.

"Ah, yes, good evening to you, Champion." Even facing Cassandra, Varric could still clearly see the crinkle of Hawke's nose at the use of her title. She had never been fond of being called that. Varric knew she felt unworthy of the title, but he was of a mind that she had well deserved it.

A flash of red caught his eye and the Dwarf's grin turned wicked. "Are you here for what I think you are?"

Yep, she was most definitely blushing. Please with himself, Varric watched as her cheekbones darkened, her brows drawing together in nerves and anger. "Don't you even."

The words had hardly left her mouth when Varric turned to Hawke with a grin. "She wants your autograph."

" _Varric!_ " Cassandra fairly squawked. He could almost see her fist rising, ready to clock him in the back of the head. Instead his eyes were focused on the bewildered hazel ones that fluttered at him in confusion before darting to Cassandra and back again.

"My autograph? But… why?"

Without heat, Fenris snorted. He had barely glanced up from the book he was reading since Cassandra had arrived.

With Cassandra torn between mortification and rage, Varric was the one to answer for her. With a roll of his eyes, he supplied, "You're the Champion. Why do you think?"

It was hard not to pity the poor Seeker though. One glance at her told that while she was contemplating murder, she also looked about ready to die of embarrassment. He could practically see her knees bending against the urge to sink into the floor.

Pitying the woman, Hawke smiled. "Ignore the sassy midget. I'd love to sign it."

"Sassy midget?" Varric huffed. He could hardly focus on actually sassing Hawke, as amused and distracted as he was by the way Cassandra practically tiptoed up to Hawke. It was truly amazing the change in her the second one of her heroes came into sight. Rather reminiscent of when she had fairly fawned over the latest edition of Swords and Shields he had presented with her. While he would never say it aloud, it was rather cute to see. Such a proud of noble woman turned into a timid fangirl.

Still, the way she beamed at Hawke and hurriedly thanked the woman was worth the inevitable smack to the back of his head. It was good to see both of the grim faced women smiling for once.

Fenris had at last been drawn from his reading fully, eyes watching curiously as Hawke scrawled out her name in a series of elegant peaks. For all her rowdy nature and early rustic life, she still had the well-groomed hand of a noble's daughter.

"Well this might be a first," the Elf drawled. "A Seeker excited for a Mage's autograph…"

Before Varric knew it though, he found a quill jiggled in his direction.

"Your turn."

"What? Me?" he laughed.

Another shake of the quill. "Well you're the author, aren't you? Isn't that the way this goes? Authors autograph their works! Besides, you're one of my 'faithful' companions. You're in here, so it's only fitting."

Varric was a bit dubious on how much Cassandra wanted him signing her book and yet… the woman still seemed tense with anticipation, watching him with an eagerness he never saw directed at him, except that one time Lavellan had convinced him to continue Cassandra's favorite serial.

Without further fuss, he stepped over, adding his own name beneath Hawke's in his sharper script. Almost instantly, Fenris found the book stuffed under his nose and the Elf's head jerked back in surprise.

"You're next," Hawke chirped.

"What?" The book was prodded against his chin and he frowned at the pestering woman in his lap.

In return, Hawke rolled her eyes. "You're a companion too. You should sign it. Practice your letters and all of that good stuff."

Lips pursed and Cassandra shifted nervously, starting to utter that there was no need to make anyone uncomfortable.

It was perhaps the nervous stutter that did it. Varric could see the annoyance melt out of Fenris' face at Cassandra's nervous jitter, though he attempted to keep up his irritable appearance as he took the book from Hawke.

Beside Hawke's more carefully constructed writing, Fenris' was fairly chicken scratch. The slightest bump in Fenris' lip told of where the Elf held back the urge to poke out the tip of his tongue as he focused on constructing his messy letters. By the time he handed back the quill and book, he looked almost as embarrassed as Cassandra.

"I hate writing," he muttered.

Gentle puffs of air worked to dry the ink on the inside cover. "Only because you never practice," Hawke chided between breaths. "I keep telling you it gets neater and easier the more you do it, like anything."

Experimentally, the Mage poked one curly loop and was satisfied when her finger came away dry. "There!"

Presented with the book, Cassandra fairly melted, her knees actually giving into a slight dip this time in her glee. Varric half expected the woman to cry with joy. As it was, it was almost horrifying to see her practically grinning.

Hawke was less reserved in her own expression, openly grinning. "Now all you need are Aveline, Sebastian, and Merrill."

"And maybe Donnic for Hard in Hightown," Varric added. Not that the guard would let him get away without hearing another lecture on the appropriateness of writing him and his cases (however embellished) into a book. At least… so he would say when Aveline was in earshot. The second his wife was out of the room Donnic was rather more open and, reluctantly excited, about the fact that he had somehow become a fictional hero. Not that Varric was of the opinion that the straight laced guard could not be considered a real life hero as well.

"Should not be too hard to weasel Aveline and her husband into signing next time I'm in Kirkwall. Merrill would sign a rock if I asked. Sebastian should be cake too, especially for a Seeker."

Profound thanks were sputtered, and face red, Cassandra hurried from the room, book practically clutched to her chest as she struggled to rein in some sense of dignity. Varric was of the opinion that she had gone too far down fangirl lane for that. He snickered quietly as she slipped out of the library.

"She's not bad, for a Seeker," Hawke mused.

The flat expression Varric was going for did not quite make it. "She kidnapped me, interrogated me, and then tried to beat me up for lying about knowing where you were."

A long pause stretched between them.

"… She's not bad for a Seeker."

"I hate you, Hawke."


End file.
